


Stormy Weather

by romanticalgirl



Category: British Actor RPF, Hornblower RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-12-05 00:06:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you see a real movie star, let me know. I've always wanted to meet one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stormy Weather

**Author's Note:**

> For the "outside" prompt for [](http://dr-ryan-adama.livejournal.com/profile)[**dr_ryan_adama**](http://dr-ryan-adama.livejournal.com/), [](http://ladyhamilton.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://ladyhamilton.livejournal.com/)**ladyhamilton**.
> 
> Originally posted 7-22-06

“Fuck.” Ioan ducks under the awning and glares up at the sky, running a hand through his drenched hair. The sky is grey and falling in sheets, rain slicing cold beneath the overhang.

“Such language, Gruffudd. Didn’t your mother raise you better?”

Ioan’s eyebrow shoot up and he turns slowly, his smile sliding across his face, warm against the cold rain. “Bamber.”

Jamie glances down at his own wet shirt, glued to his skin by the rain. “In the flesh.”

Ioan laughs in pure delight, grabbing Jamie and pulling him close in a tight hug. “Bloody hell, Bamber. What the fuck are you doing here.”

“You mean under all the awnings in all the world, why’d you have to dart in out of the rain under mine?” Jamie pulls back, his grin matching Ioan’s. “Got just as much right to London as you do, even if I’m not a big-time movie star.”

Ioan glances behind him and around, the blur of hurrying people rushing past. “You see a big-time movie star? Where? I’ve always wanted to meet one.”

Jamie shakes his head and then nods toward the door behind him. “My hotel. You want to come up?”

Ioan licks his lips and looks Jamie over, eyes raking down his body. The pale grey shirt clings to his skin, the dampness and cool breeze rippling it across his chest, catching on the hardness of his nipples as they stand out beneath it. Ioan drops his gaze to Jamie’s jeans, the wet denim tight across his thighs. “I shouldn’t.”

He can see Jamie nod out of the corner of his eye. When he speaks, his voice holds the low burn of hunger and a soft hint of laughter. “That’d carry more weight, you know, if you weren’t looking at me like that.”

Ioan raises his eyes, feeling heat sear his skin. Jamie’s smile is like a match set to dry tinder. His own voice drops in response. “Wouldn’t hurt, I suppose, to go up and dry off a bit then come down to the bar? For a drink.”

Jamie’s laugh is husky. “Yeah. Wouldn’t hurt at all.”

**

They walk through the lobby, past the windows steamed from the heat and the outside rain, up the stairs as Jamie assures him the lift’s for shit. The key dangles from Jamie’s finger, swinging a hypnotic rhythm from the white plastic keychain with number 17 embossed in gold. He raises an eyebrow as Jamie stops in front of room 39. “Dare I even ask, Bamber?”

“Well,” he feeds the key into the door and turns the lock, pushing the door open and holding it so that Ioan has to brush against him to enter. “We could discuss the rattiness of the hotel I’m currently habiting or you can go inside.” He reaches out and brushes a finger along Ioan’s jaw. “And we can get out of these wet clothes.”

“Probably best for our health,” Ioan agrees softly, turning his face into Jamie’s touch, closing his eyes and reveling in the soft brush of skin on skin. “Wouldn’t want to catch our death.”

“No,” Jamie’s voice is a low purr of hunger, and Ioan realizes suddenly how long it’s been, how much that, faced with Jamie now, he’s missed him. “We wouldn’t want that.”

Ioan moves into the room, smiling at the open windows and fluttering curtains. Jamie’d always loved fresh air, open windows. Even in Crimea he’d had his window opened a crack, letting in the bitter frosty air that made it harder to get out of his bed in the morning than it already was. Jamie follows him in and shuts the door behind them, leaning on it with lazy grace.

Suitcases are spread on the chair and the table, clothes scattered haphazardly here and there. Ioan’s eyebrow goes up a notch – Jamie’s compulsively tidy – and he sits on the edge of the bed. “You living with someone? Or have you just decided personal hygiene has no place in your life?”

“Says the man that sorts clothes into a giant pile of clean versus dirty after washing day?” Jamie moves toward the bed, a slow, hungry smile on his face. “Hullo, Ioan.”

He wants to stand, but it seems an effort, so he just tilts his head back and smiles. “Hullo, Jamie.”

Jamie leans down and it’s a slow, easy movement, his finger pressed lightly against Ioan’s jaw, holding him in place. His lips are parted when they meet Ioan’s, and Ioan parts his in response, the warm huff of breath shared between them. Jamie pulls back, barely moving away, and smiles again, licking his lips. “Hullo.”

Ioan nods and swallows, sucking on his lower lip for a moment before reaching up, his hand cupping Jamie’s jaw, his thumb stroking the line of his cheek. He nods again and closes his eyes, offering his mouth up. “Again.”

Jamie kneels between Ioan’s legs, his stomach pressing against the mattress as he leans in, the kiss still soft and chaste. There’s a hint of something just out of reach and Ioan darts his tongue over Jamie’s lips, and the low growl of approval meets his movements and the kiss deepens, Ioan’s hand sliding back to thread in Jamie’s hair.

They’d done this for hours in Jamie’s bed and his, just kissing and touching and stroking, both of them shaking and trembling and laughing in turn, breathless and wanting. Jamie tastes the same – like wet and mint – and Ioan is sure that he still uses the same toothpaste and the same soap and now maybe the hint of tobacco edges the kiss with more flavor as he teases Jamie’s lips with his tongue again, gaining entrance to the warm, wet heat.

Jamie pulls back enough to whisper Ioan’s name, and heat pours through Ioan like someone’s upended a pitcher over his head. He shivers and tightens his hand in Jamie’s hair, shifting on the bed to edge closer, seeking contact.

Ioan finds Jamie’s tongue, so conveniently against his, and sucks on it, moaning in the back of his throat at the familiar yet different touch and taste, the feel of warmth and weight in his mouth. He shivers, remembering other weight against his tongue, and lets his free hand drift down to the flat plane of Jamie’s stomach.

Jamie pulls back, his breath somewhere in the hallway, perhaps, as he doesn’t seem to have any as his chest heaves, his eyes nearly black as they meet Ioan’s. “Wet clothes,” he breathes, reaching behind his head to snag the collar of his shirt and pull it up. The fabric clings and resists then gives way, peeling off Jamie like a second skin. Ioan watches in fascination, his breath leaving him as well and making a break for the door.

Ioan fingers shake as he unbuttons his shirt, tugging the fabric from his trousers. Jamie’s watching him with unbridled heat and Ioan can feel the steam rising from his skin. He licks his lips once then again, rubbing his tongue after against the roof of his mouth to taste Jamie again.

Jamie watches him for a moment, eyes hot on Ioan’s mouth. Ioan licks his lips in response and then huffs out a warm laugh as Jamie’s lips part at the gesture. “God, Bamber…” He lets his hand fall from Jamie’s hair to his shoulder, thumb rubbing the thin white fabric of his undershirt. “Still wet.”

“Not likely to change this close to you,” Jamie assures him, closing his eyes as Ioan’s hand moves down, skating over Jamie’s chest, his nipples to his stomach. Ioan stares at him, memorizing the planes of his face, the sharp jut of bone where there had once been the soft contour of youth. Ioan curls his hand and catches the material, tugging it free of Jamie’s jeans and bringing his other hand down to guide it off of Jamie altogether

“Best to get it off you then,” Ioan agrees, letting the wet cloth fall to the floor beside the bed. His own body feels chilled and warm all at once and he reaches down to where Jamie’s hands rest on the mattress, turning one of them over and tracing his fingers over the palm. “Jamie?”

He swallows and leans in, nuzzling at Ioan’s neck, nipping at the skin. “Yeah?”

Ioan turns and meets Jamie’s eyes, leaning forward to nip his lower lip. “Touch me.”

Jamie’s mouth finds Ioan’s before the words are even done, his hands sliding back around Ioan’s arse and pulling him forward. He slides off the bed, settling on Jamie’s thighs, straddling him, his arms sliding over Jamie’s bare shoulders. Jamie tilts his head back, his hands resting warmly against the curve of Ioan’s arse as he pulls him forward, the hard press of Ioan’s cock brushing the length of Jamie’s.

“Oh.” Ioan moans softly and grinds down, the squeaky rasp of wet denim loud in the room as he shifts above Jamie, needing closer. One hand finds its way back into Jamie’s hair as the other slides down his back, stroking the sharp planes of his shoulder blades down to his waist.

Working his hand between them, Jamie’s fingers brush Ioan’s nipple, forcing another sound from between his lips, a stuttering gasp that feels as hot as it sound against Jamie’s mouth, his tongue. A cool breeze blows in the window and Ioan shudders, deepening the kiss. This is sense memory, he knows, feeling his way down Jamie’s body with fingers that remember ticklish spots and spots that are anything but. He touches and Jamie touches and he wants.

Oh, God. He wants.

“Jamie…” He pulls back, panting desperately as he fumbles his way back onto the edge of the mattress. Jamie looks at him with eyes that set Ioan on fire, raging through him like an inferno. His fingers slip against his belt as he struggles to unfasten it, begging Jamie to do the same with parted lips and a hungry gaze. Jamie watches him for a long moment, his hands still on his thighs, splayed across the tight, wet denim.

Finally getting the buckle undone, Ioan pauses. His breath is hard in his chest, compounded into something solid that won’t allow air through. He can’t breathe and he can’t think and all he can see is the slow burn in Jamie’s eyes as he straightens up, still kneeling and slides his fingers across the buckle of his belt.

Ioan licks his lips, breath coming again like a surprise. He nearly chokes on it as it floods his lungs, watching Jamie as he unfastens his belt and then his jeans, rocking back onto his heels and getting to his feet in smooth, fluid gesture that leaves Ioan feeling like an awkward colt. Jamie stands in front of him, his lips curved in a slight grin before they spread into a smile and Ioan laughs, unable to stop the sound.

It cuts off as Jamie’s hand settles in the middle of Ioan’s chest and he pushes him, sending him sprawling back on the bed. Ioan crawls up the mattress, trying to kick off his shoes as he does. Jamie shakes his head and laughs, catching Ioan’s leg and holding it, tugging off his trainer and tossing it aside.

The first time they’d done this they’d been drunk and horny, up half the night telling stories of old girlfriends that had gotten dirtier and more embellished along the way. Somehow the subject of boys had come up and Jamie mentioned drama school and Ioan had mentioned theater and then they were kissing, deep and hot and against the wall and then Ioan was on Jamie’s bed sprawled out like an offering, Jamie peeling his clothes off, stripping Ioan down to his boxers before settling against him, rocking their bodies together as they’d discovered each other. The booze had been gone in the morning, but the feeling remained and he’d spent the next night and the next thinking he’d find everything he could find at some point, but never seemed to manage to do it.

Jamie tosses Ioan’s other shoe away and then slides his hands down Ioan’s legs. Ioan glances down and sees the grey hint of Jamie’s boxer-briefs and the heavy pulse of his cock between the parted denim of Jamie’s jeans. His own body throbs in response and he lifts his hips obediently, letting Jamie strip away his trousers.

Ioan’s hands skim his stomach, trailing along the edge of his boxer-briefs. He blinks at Jamie, watching his reactions as he lifts his hips again, tugging the fabric over his swollen cock. He wants more and less than fabric between them and he’s relieved as Jamie takes over, tugging the thin cotton down his legs. He drops it at his feet and stares down at Ioan, eyes taking every inch in a slow, measured gaze belied by the rough rise and fall of his chest.

“You do know, don’t you,” Jamie’s voice is a hushed purr, “there’s not a bar in this hotel.”

“Guess we’ll have to stay here then, hmm?”

He strips away his jeans and boxer-briefs and kneels carefully between Ioan’s spread legs. “Yeah, I guess we will.”

**

The waiting feels like hours, but it’s only seconds before Jamie braces himself above him, their bodies not quite touching. Falling back in bed is easy, he reminds himself. He’s done it a hundred times. But falling back in with Jamie is different. Harder. Stronger.

Jamie smiles and shifts his weight, his finger tracing Ioan’s lower lip. “I’ve missed you.”

Ioan smiles back, the old joke on his lips. “From this distance? How?” He catches Jamie’s finger and pulls it into his mouth, sucking on it gently. Jamie’s breath hitches and he shakes his head, his eyes still warm, still hungry.

“You asked me to touch you, Ioan.” He frees his finger from Ioan’s mouth and splays it next to Ioan’s head on the bed. With a slow slide, he lowers himself, his cock grazing Ioan’s. Hot, naked flesh and the heavy pulse of blood brings a moan to Ioan’s lips and he fists his hands in the sheets. “Let me?”

“Yes,” he nods, eyes closing against the sensation of weight and heat and _Jamie_. “Yes.”

Jamie shifts against him and begins moving, their bodies falling into rhythm. It’s rough and unsteady and strange, but familiar and more right than anything he’s felt in a long time. His hips rock upward, hard and fast and desperate, their bodies colliding in rough harmony.

It doesn’t last long – too much emotion, too much need, too much history – but he comes and Jamie comes quickly after and they lie there, gasping the same air until they both stop shivering. The cool air feels strange on his skin then he realizes it’s Jamie’s breath and he’s moving, pulling away. He stretches out on the bed beside Ioan, distance between them.

“Hey,” Ioan whispers softly, surprised at the pain in his voice, wondering if its as noticeable to Jamie as it is to him.

Jamie turns his head and smiles, uncertain and unsure. Ioan almost laughs at the ridiculousness of the thought. “Hey.”

Ioan turns on his side, lessening the space separating them. “I’ve missed you too.” He reaches out and touches Jamie’s shoulder, tracing the line of his collar bone. He tries to smile and fails, as uncertain as Jamie seems. “So much.”

Reaching up, Jamie tangles his fingers with Ioan’s, pulling his hand up and kissing the back of it. “I’m in London for three weeks.”

“I’m here for four.”

Jamie glances around the hotel room. “I know it’s terribly posh and all, but…there’s room. In the bed. If you want to…stay.”

“Tonight?” Ioan asks, careful to keep his voice measured, his hope safe.

“Tonight,” Jamie nods and Ioan’s chest tightens. “For three weeks.” He smiles and Ioan smiles back and there’s really no distance between them at all anymore. “For a while.”

Ioan remembers warm beds and cold rooms and late nights and early mornings and saying goodbye to his friend and his lover and wondering what it meant. Now he knows. “Yeah.” Agreeing to stay, agreeing to more. “For a while.”  



End file.
